You know you are in love when both of your families don't want
you to be together, but you can't even feel it or know it. You
can't feel the anger, dislike, madness, and misery. All you know
is each other.

I had a love like that once, and it came at just the right time.
Adolescents no longer, not quite up to bearing the weight of
adulthood, on this quiet strip of no-man's-land. We were trying
on the clothing of grown up man and woman with the option open to
shrug these off if they didn't fit right.

As I sat nude, cross-legged on my lover's bed, facing him, I
looked into his large blue eyes, twin pools of light, and sighed.
Matt reached forward, gently cupped my face in his hands and
kissed me. I leaned back and we twined our legs around each
other. Matt began to stroke my breasts.

"Laurel, you are perfect for me in every way, my true soul mate.
Remember what we read in Steppenwolf about Harry
Haller, the "wolf of the Steppes" as he called himself, finding
his female counterpart that night he goes walking and finds a
café that is called For Madmen Only? That's you and me.
Even our sun signs complement each other. I'm Pisces the Fish, a
water sign, and just like the book said, I'm interested in
philosophical and magical and poetical things. You come next,
Aries the Ram, full of fire. The two signs are connected,
especially in sex." He smiled at me. "You are a hot fire, you are
so full of passion and I need your warmth."

The candles Matt had set around the room were flickering; I was
trying not to laugh. This new man, this new lover, was who I
needed and I loved him deeply; sometimes he got carried away.
What saved him from being a bore was his high intelligence and
his blue-collar work ethic. Matt plowed away at his philosophy
courses as if he was driving a bulldozer.

Matt put his big toe on the hard little ball of flesh that was
exposed between my legs. and began to play. He knew me by now; he
knew my sexual drive was more demanding than his. But-and this
shocked me at first-he liked that. He liked strong, dominant
women. So, being the excellent lover that he was, he learned
ways to keep me satisfied. In this way he seemed truly psychic
at being able to read my wants and needs. From my end, to keep up
with his ever-wandering mind, I read some of the books he gave me
and attended a few philosophy lectures with him. My favorite book
was the one mentioned earlier, Hermann Hesse's
Steppenwolf. I owe Matt a lot for giving it to me to
read; it supplied the key to my own private difficulties and
ambiguities.

Matt kept up the teasing pressure with his toe, and I fell back
on the bed. He rubbed me just long enough for me to begin to have
an orgasm, then he pulled back his foot, climbed on top, and
pushed his penis inside. Soon we were breathing together and
moaning.

Matt lived on the top floor of an old, crazy-looking building at
the end of Coltart Street. It was cheap, clean, comfortable.
Students lived there, but not on the top, where Matt lived. His
bricks-and-boards bookshelves lined all the walls. He had a big
bulletin board where he posted all his favorite quotations and
pictures. His heroes were Sartre and Hegel, also Bob Dylan, and
his former back-up group, The Band. Oh the time we spent, lying
on the clean but shabby sofa, listening to Dylan's weird lyrics
and trying to interpret them. I just liked listening to it, but
that was Matt's mind, that's where it led; he loved solving
philosophical dilemmas and the deeper meanings of lines of
obscure poetry. Other than reading and thinking and reflecting,
he loved to walk and we walked, always at night, all over
Pittsburgh, talking, talking, talking-about everything.

Matt was a virgin, had almost no knowledge of women or sex, had
been on few dates. He was interested though; but being somewhat
passive he waited for the right woman to come to him. I shared
all my experience of sex with him and he never, ever, asked me
where I gained what I knew.

Before actually moving in with Matt, I made up a new girlfriend
named Kathy. I became quite close with "Kathy" and stayed nights
with her. The first "Kathy call" as we called them came soon
after we met. Matt and I stood facing each other in the dark
bedroom. He wanted me to undress him and I found that strange but
in matters of sex I'm a good time girl, a cheerful, easy to
please lover. So I took his sweater and jeans off and found,
under his jockey shorts, a huge erection.

"I'm going to touch you now. Is that OK?"

"Yes. Please." He was gasping for breath.

I held his penis in both my hands, kissed the top, and played for
a little while. Matt let me know that he couldn't take it much
longer. I laughed at this.

"Hang on," I encouraged him. I pushed him back and quickly
positioned myself on his penis and sat.

Immediately, he came.

He lay there, eyes closed. I told him to open them. What did he
think?

"What do I think? Are you mad? Why did it take me so long to find
you?"

We stayed up all night and he was strong as an ox, spending, then
attaining yet another erection.

"You're 20 years old," I told him. "You're making up for lost
time. You're ready for this to happen."

We were, as Matt said "all asses and elbows," that night. A
second time with me on top, then reversing, with him on top.
After that we lay like spoons and he came in from behind. He
liked that position a lot because, as he said, "it's equal,"
nobody's dominating. Oh brother, I said, please don't think too
much about the philosophical divisions between sexual positions.
Just, and I kissed him before saying this, enjoy it. It's a
banquet, a smorgasbord, a feast.

"I love you Laurel," Matt said when dawn came and we were
exhausted. "You're everything I need."

It was then that something struck me. When my high school
boyfriend dumped me and I was deeply depressed I took long walks
in strange neighborhoods to escape from home. I had a fantasy
that I indulged while taking these long walks; it was a picture
in my mind of a boy, a young man, living alone in some odd place,
isolated, and he was cold and sick and I came and warmed him.

Oh the joys of "living in sin" as it was called then. The Pill,
anti-war demonstrations, taking some classes together, reading
the same books for these classes, talking about them. My junior
year at Pitt was a cornucopia of fun of all kinds; I was taking a
two-semester history class on Russian history, along with courses
devoted to Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky. That year I attained dean's
list. My sexual needs, in the past causing me to do unwise
things, were satisfied indeed; nobody in my family was speaking
to me but that was OK; my courses were kind of flowing along
together, making total sense.

Matt worked at night in the campus McDonalds. His father owned a
bunch of parking lots in Philadelphia and could not help him
financially. Matt attended classes, took copious notes, was alert
and ready for thought and discussion after coming back to Coltart
Street at 2:00 AM, carrying bags of McDonalds food-leftovers that
the employees were encouraged to take home. I always woke up when
Matt got home. I got to associate the pleasantly greasy smell of
Big Macs and French fries with sex, because when Matt walked in
he'd dump his bags of warm food, drop his clothes and jump into
bed with me. He had been thinking of me all the way home and what
he wanted to do with me; sometimes he would push me back on the
bed, run his hands slowly over my breasts, stop at the nipples
and play. Quickly I was ready for the next step but not being
particularly hot-blooded, he stalled around, playing with my
nipples for a while until I was ready to burst. Even then he
would not satisfy me, not quite yet. He loved seeing me struggle
and reach for his penis so he would come inside me, but he
waited-ran his hands down my legs, stopping at the junction
between my thighs and playing some more, making a comment about
how wet I was, so wet and turned on that the juice was seeping
onto the sheet. Then he finally took off his McDonalds clothes,
his penis standing up straight and he would gently stroke the
mouth of my vagina with it, teasing still more until I was
practically crying . It was only at this point of absolute frenzy
that he would enter me and of course I would come immediately,
but that wasn't the end. We all have our fetishes and private
dreams and with Matt it was my breasts. He never paid any
attention to my legs or ass. He would want to lie down on his
back, his erection strong as usual, and have me kneel between his
legs. Then with the help of a little KY between my breasts, I
would, as Matt said, "fuck him with my breasts," meaning that I
would hold his erection securely between my breasts and rub. At
the moment of climax, when his breathing became gasps and his
thighs loosened, I would take his penis into my mouth and suck.
After this, he would grab me and kiss me open-mouthed, so he
could taste his own semen. As usual, I might have been a little
surprised at this deviation from the norm, but being the good
girl that I am I did what my lover asked of me and enjoyed seeing
him so fulfilled. Then we would eat all the McDonalds food and go
to sleep.

Matt liked secrets; he was a private person. He enjoyed
occasionally doing something outrageous that was not obvious to
others around. One day, I was sitting in a philosophy lecture at
the back of the classroom with Matt; he had requested that I wear
my big poncho that covered me completely and I knew my lover had
something special planned. I sat with the poncho draped all
around me and Matt carefully put his hand under the rough
material and found my right nipple. I wasn't wearing bras then
and he had no trouble in locating it. Very gently he began to
touch and tease it, making me squirm in the hard chair. Nothing
was out of place; Matt was actually taking notes while doing
this. There was something a little perverse about the situation,
or maybe perverse isn't the right word. The hard chair, the
slightly abrasive material of the poncho, the way he was touching
me; I felt bound and helpless and my face grew red. I was
sweating and trying not to move while Matt looked straight ahead
at the professor.

When the lecture was over I jumped up, charged into the ladies
room, locked myself into a stall, jerked down my jeans, and
rubbed the sensitive spot between my legs. I reached an orgasm
very quickly due to the stimulation that Matt provided plus the
bondage/discipline feeling of being trapped in a wooden chair
during a lecture.

I left the ladies room and found Matt leaning against a pillar,
waiting for me with a big grin on his face.